Spring Show Opening Reception

What Work Looks Like These Days

Vision

Street art in Santa Teresa, Rio de Janeiro.

Africa to the Bay

I have now lived at Casa Cali for as long as I lived in Mozambique. Four-and-a-half years. Combining both places, nearly a decade.

I think about the fact that I moved to Chimoio when I was 23 and it blows my mind. So ambitious and precocious and confident and arrogant. So open to radical change. So unfazed by geography.

Between then and now I got married, created a lucrative freelance career for myself, left said career, became a homeowner, went to art school, became a metalsmith, learned how to parallel park, set up a collaborative studio space, and now - most recently - with lots of help from lots of people, opened the showroom.

I also felt my wanderlust and expat identity transform into something more grounded, content to stay in one place and invest in that life as a solid base from which to explore.

In many ways, the process of making art feels like living abroad. It can be frustrating and lonely and full of fear. It is continually humbling. There are lots of tears. And yet it is also enlightening, inspiring, and an unfailing way to get to know myself better.

These days life is grand and it is also very hard. All of the aspects of being a self-employed artist, an entrepreneur, a collaborator, a mentor, a boss that I knew would be a challenge have been just that. But in a good way. In a growing way. In a way that makes me remember every day that it's the cumulative and sustained efforts that make a difference. That Rome wasn't built in a day. That it's okay for things to be continually in flux.

The reality of my latest leap is still sinking in. I write this from the most calming and beautiful space imaginable, in a community that I am wholly part of. My fledgling business is flourishing. Rico is here helping me close for the day. We will likely go next door to the wine bar and have a glass of something delicious before going home. Then I will cook, we will relax with the cats, and tomorrow I have the chance to do it all again.

I've got a shingle now

A while back our neighbors J and K asked if I was excited to put my shingle up, and I had no idea what they were talking about. Apparently it's a (well-known?) expression that means you are opening your own business, putting a sign out that has your name on it.

So I have a shingle now.  It is very beautiful, and my logo and map background I designed match the colors of the building which is a surprise I find really pleasing.

The inside of the building came together, too, and is so perfect. The space is elegant, full of light and flowers (not to mention jewels and objects!), and it transmits such a good energy. The showroom bears my name, but it is really about the work of many, many people. From Rico building me the most beautiful display furniture and workstation, to Emi and Carolyn's pieces, to Matt's photos, to Jenn's packaging, to my mom's flower design, to the contractors' many talents, to my awesome landlords…everything came together.

And of course the encouragement and support of the many people I hold near and dear, and the many communities I am lucky to be part of: family, childhood friends, development world friends, school friends, local friends and neighbors, CCA, the jewelry/metals community, my fellow Point Richmond business owners, blog friends…the list goes on and on, and that excites me more than anything. I feel surrounded by people who want to see me happy, who want to be part of this big leap forward.

Here are a few photos from our grand opening last weekend. It was a grand success. Thank you.

Showroom -4

What my life has looked like lately

I feel like I'm living in a beautiful washing machine, a thousand tumbles and a hectic pace amid color and texture and wonder.

Showroom opens in 6 days.

My mom (and Studio Belvedere) lost a good girl along the way, but she is looking upon us from a land of cookies, walks, and amethysts until we meet again.